


Just Breathe

by ship_to_wreck



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance, Season 3a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4272450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ship_to_wreck/pseuds/ship_to_wreck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She opens her eyes, and when she takes in the way he’s looking at her the air becomes thin, the blood rushes to her head, and she feels like she’s falling. Falling; like from a great height. But also like falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked me on tumblr: What do you think was the moment Lydia realized she has feelings for Stiles? :)
> 
> Instead of replying like a normal person would, I wrote this drabble. I thought I should share it, so here it is.

  
  
  


Stiles does it slowly. He does it like the first timid ray of sunshine seeping through massive grey clouds after a long ruthless winter. He quietly sneaks into her life, her thoughts, and she doesn’t anticipate it. He does it without a warning. He doesn’t give her a chance to protect herself from any of that. He just  _does_  it.

One day she’s walking beside him and rolling her eyes at how annoying he can be, sassing him out at every given opportunity, putting on her impassive mask and sarcastically answering,  _“No, my designer handbag,”_  because the subject was too heavy and it sent shivers up her spine and she was afraid to be part of that world.

The next day she’s throwing herself on top of him and pushing him to the ground to save him from being burned alive. She’s watching him speak and trying not to get distracted by the perfectly placed moles on his face and neck. She’s touching him and only realizing it when he touches her shoulders, holds her hand, rests his hand on the small of her back, holds her arms and, more often than not, asks her if she’s okay. She’s walking down the hallway with his voice in her ears even when he’s absent and the memory of his touch lingers on her skin when she’s alone in her bed late into the night.

Next thing she knows she’s on the floor of the locker room and her chest constricts because he looks hopeless and it pains her to see him like that because this isn’t Stiles. Stiles is goofy, Stiles is cheerful, he has the answers, he figures things out. He’s not this broken, hurt boy she sees in front of her.

And she doesn’t know what to do, because she’s not good with words. She tries to comfort him. She  _tries_ ; panting, too, choking on her own despair, because if it were her in his place, he would do  _anything_  to help her.

“Think about good things, happy things,” she says, and her voice breaks at the end, and she’s afraid to breathe too deeply and suck the air out of his lungs. “Friends, family,” she adds meekly. He looks like he’s about to faint and Lydia wants to scream because she trips over words when they’re not being used to discuss math, science, logical things.

This is not logical. This world isn’t logical. And what she wants to do now is even harder to understand.

But she does it.

She cups his face and strokes his cheeks with her fingers. “Shhh, Stiles, look at me. Shhh, look at me.” Her voice is just above a whisper and she hopes he can hear her. But her words are not enough. This is not working.

His gasps are short and shallow and she tries to forget for a moment that he’s having a panic attack and she has to stop it. (Count your fingers; lie on your back and inhale for three seconds, exhale for seven, repeat the process a few times; close your mouth and breathe through your nose; focus on your breathing…)

She can’t be cold and indifferent and rational right now. She can’t stop this like Allison had stitched Scott up in that dirty restroom a few weeks ago to save his life. This is different. Stiles isn’t bleeding to death, he is panicking because he thinks he is alone, he thinks all is lost, because his best friend is stuck with the enemy and his father’s life is in the hands of an assassin and he has nobody. This is about proving to him that he is  _not_ alone, that this is  _not_ the end. She is right here and she isn’t going anywhere.

She can’t say any of this to him; her tongue is thick and heavy in her mouth and it’s failing her just like Stiles’ lungs are failing him. But she’s good at body language.

So she kisses him.

She presses her lips against his and pulls his face closer, closer until her nose is brushing his cheek. She feels the muscles of his jaw tense up and relax under her touch. Feels him melt into the kiss, into her hold. Feels his breathing slow down, and she’s sure he can feel her pulse against his throat.

Then she feels it. It’s something warm and sweet and terrifying and it blossoms inside her chest and spreads through her body, reaching the tips of her fingers, and she presses it into his skin one last time before pulling away.

She keeps her eyes closed. Tasting the ghost of his lips on hers, relishing the sensations that linger in her body before she has to break the moment and go back to reality. It is  _wrong_  to feel calm and peaceful in a moment like this, when people are in danger. Everything is wrong. It is wrong to feel that  _this_  is  _right_.

So she opens her eyes, and when she takes in the way he’s looking at her the air becomes thin, the blood rushes to her head, and she feels like she’s falling.

“How’d you do that?” He rasps, gasps. 

“I read once that holding your breath could stop a panic attack.” It’s hard to speak, her voice won’t say a full sentence without breaking. Perhaps because it’s a lie. And maybe he can see it in the tears gathering in her eyes, maybe he can’t, and she doesn’t know what she wants to believe. “So, when I kissed you… you held your breath.”

“I did?” 

Falling; like from a great height. 

“Yeah, you did.”

“Thanks. It was really smart.”

But also like  _falling in love_. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I wrote it in like fifteen minutes? And this isn't betaed so I apologize for any mistakes. I'm @sofuckingobsessed on tumblr in case anyone was wondering. Thank you for reading <3


End file.
